


An Assassin, a Thief, and an Emperor Walk Into a Bar

by PBlack2019



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, but just a bit, i'm not a fan of too much angst, love me some poly ships, this is my ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-08-05 23:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16376813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PBlack2019/pseuds/PBlack2019
Summary: Literally just Martin/Lucien/HoK One-ShotsHoK is my HoK, Sheora Orfo. She is also the Nerevarine, so expect some references to Morrowind, but not many.First few chapters won't be of the Ship, but of Worldbuilding and how they got together.





	1. Chapter 1

"Sheora! My friend, you're back!" Martin looked up as the door to Cloud Ruler Temple opened. 

"Martin!" Sheora grinned, hugging him. "I found a Daedric Artifact."

"Truly?" He asked grinning. "Which one?"

"Azura's Star." She pulled the flawless Soul Gem out of her pack, the fire's light glinting off of the stone in the center. 

"It's beautiful." He commented, taking the star carefully. "Are you sure you want to use it? Azura is one of the more benevolent Daedra."

"I know, Martin. But I'm afraid to use another Daedra's artifact, or even deal with them, lest they come down on me when I die. Azura already owns my soul, and I've dealt with her before. I know her, I know she hates Dagon. She won't mind us using the Star in the ritual." Sheora explained, twisting the ring on her right ring finger.

Martin smiled and wrapped her in a hug once more. "Very well, my friend." He conceded, and Sheora's smile grew strained.

In reality, Sheora had asked Azura if she could use the Star in the ritual. The four years she spent on Vvardenfel had brought her closer to the Goddess that guided the Dunmer than any other mortal before her, except Nerevar. (But does it really count if you're their reincarnation?) 

"I've figured out the next part of the ritual, just as we have the Blood of a Daedra, we need the Blood of an Aedra. You should go talk to Jauffre for this one, friend. But first, get some sleep Sheora. It's late, and you look dead on your feet." Martin smiled at her and shooed her off to the Blades Barracks.

She hugged the future Emperor of Tamriel once more before rushing off to sleep. Baurus giving her pink cheeks a knowing look.


	2. Chapter 2

Sheora smirked as she dropped into Fort Farragut.

"Hello, my Listener." Lucien Lachance nodded at her from his place at the Alchemy Table.

"Evening, Speaker." Sheora nodded at him and collapsed into one of the armchairs nearby. One of her top priorities when she became Listener was to use the money she got from contracts she completed, and her cut from all of the contracts, and furnish Lucien's fort better. She was glad she did.

"Is Arquen annoying you again?" He sent a knowing look at her and she nodded.

"Yes! She just "cannot believe" that I would "disobey direct orders from the Black Hand" and not "purify the sanctuary like"I was "supposed to!" I just, I was 100% positive the traitor wasn't a part of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary, and he wasn't! So why is she so pissed!" Sheora threw her hands up.

"Because you technically did disobey direct orders. Not," he interrupted her outraged rant, "that I'm not happy you failed in that. I'm quite glad you did. They are my siblings as well, and I raised Teinaava and Ocheeva myself, and I was the one who nursed Antonietta back to health after I found her out on the street. Vicente is, of course, a good friend of mine. Point is, I'm glad you were able to get them out. However, you did directly disobey the Black Hand. Not that they can do anything about it, seeing as the Night Mother herself has pardoned you." He sent her a grin as he set another poisoned apple into his barrel.

"How is Shadowmere, by the way?" He asked and Sheora shrugged. 

"She's doing good, but our personalities clash sometimes, and it's a bit difficult. How did you get her, by the way?" Lucien smiled. 

"I can imagine it would be difficult. And... she was a gift from the Dread Father." Sheora glanced at him. 

"That explains very little, Speaker. Aren't you supposed to be a bit more articulate than that?" She grinned at him and he shook his head.

"The Dread Father gifted her to me, she appeared out of the shadows of the Fort. 

"I see. So I take it she is more fitted to your personality." Sheora nodded, and he shrugged.

"I suppose so. We do get along quite well." The Speaker smiled fondly. 

"Perhaps you could take a break from your poisons, and visit her?" Sheora suggested. "I'm sure she would appreciate it." Lucien looked at her and nodded.

"I suppose that is acceptable. And, Sheora." She turned to him, brows drawn in confusion. "I don't believe I ever thanked you for busting into Applewatch and threatening Belisarius so that they would listen to you." 

"Of course, my Speaker." 


	3. Chapter 3

"Sheora, dear friend." Martin glanced at her, worried. "What's wrong?"

"Why would anything be wrong?" Sheora asked, nervously glancing at Martin.

"You're acting nervous. You never just stop by to have conversations with me anymore." Martin took a step closer to her, his face pinched in worry. "I haven't done anything wrong, have I?"

"No! Martin! By Sithis no!" She shook her head and looked at the ground. "No this is a me problem, not a you problem. You've done nothing to upset me. Quite the opposite, actually." Sheora took a deep breath before glancing up at him. _Curse my short size!_ "I like you, Martin. A lot. But I can't be in a relationship with you." Martin's face turned from hopeful to crestfallen, and Sheora took a step back.

"Can I at least know why?" He whispered and Sheora nodded.

"There's someone else I love, just the same as you, Martin. I can't just choose you over him, or him over you." She took a shaky breath and brushed a few tears from her cheeks. "So, I'm sorry, Martin. But I can't." She glanced up at Martin who was... smiling?

"Sheora, you do know that I wasn't always a priest, right?" He asked, and she nodded. 

"Yes, of course. You said you joined the Mages Guild." She stated, and he shook his head.

"I left the college about two months in, Sheora. I left and turned to Daedra Worship. Specifically, Sanguine." He smiled at her shocked expression.

"You, Innocent Little Martin, as the Blades call you, a member of Sanguine's Cult?" Martin laughed at her incredulous expression. 

"Is that what they call me? Sheora, I was his _Champion_." He stressed and Sheora groaned. "But in all seriousness, I learned a lot of terms you wouldn't hear in normal conversations. Sure, a lot of them aren't in Sanguine's domain, but I learned of them nonetheless." He smiled at her.

"Like what?" She asked.

"Like, the term Polyamourous. Or Poly, as it's sometimes shortened to. If a person is Poly they believe in and are open to, an intimate relationship with more than one person. A relationship that is fully consensual between those people." Sheora looked at him, shocked.

"That's... that's a thing? You can do that?" Martin grinned.

"Technically, most 'Civilized' people will look down on it, and the temple rejects it, which is why it's kind of in Sanguine's domain, but it is completely a thing you can do. I know I'm Poly, so if you want to do this, the three of us." He gave her a piercing stare that reminded her truly of his father in his last moments. "I'm open to it, Sheora. I'm going to have to meet him first, but I'm open to it." Sheora beamed at him.

"Thank you, Martin." She hugged him quickly before stepping back, still beaming.

"May I know his name?" Martin asked.

"Yes! Yes, of course. His name is Lucien Lachance. He's a smooth talker. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he could talk Mankar Camoran into giving up his quest." Sheora laughed lightly.

"He sounds amazing." Martin smiled, but Sheora's grin slid from her face.

"He's not a good person, Martin... and neither am I."

"What do you mean? Sheora, you're a great person!" Martin's face pinched in worry once more.

"Martin..." She pulled him over to the far side of the bedroom, away from the door and the Blade that was guarding it. "I'm a member of the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood." Martin looked at her, shocked.

"I mean..." He shook his head. "I figured you were in some sketchy things... but I never thought..." He looked at Sheora and saw her fighting back tears.

"I'm sorry." She said, her voice strained. 

"No," He took her face in his hands. "Don't apologize. I'm not mad." 

"You're not?" Martin shook his head.

"No, I'm not. You've done bad things, so have I. I've seen you give beggers twenty Septims, where the average citizen would have ignored them. You go running across the country closing Oblivion Gates left and right. Without you, Cyrodiil, and probably Tamriel as a whole would be lost by now." Sheora gave him a wet smile and pulled away, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Thank you, Martin." 

"Of course, my dear." She sent him a bright smile. "So. What has been your craziest heist, and your craziest contract?" He asked, and Sheora sat down on the bed and thought for a few moments.

"Okay, so, do you get the Black Horse Carrier?" She asked, and Martin nodded.

"Of course, it's the only way to keep up to date with the Empire from here."

"Good. You know the edition _Palace Break In?_ " Martin nodded.

"You actually broke into the Imperial Palace? What did you steal?" 

"I did! And... I actually stole something quite important." Martin looked at her, excited. 

"What did you steal!" He whisper yelled.

"An... Elder Scroll...?" She answered, a bit nervous about his reaction.

"You stole... an Elder Scroll." He stated, and she nodded. "Wow... just... wow. Why?"

"That's a long story. Mostly because it was the Actual Grey Fox asking me to do it." Martin's mouth fell open in shock. "I know right? But also partly because I love the thrill of it." She grinned at him.

"Why an Elder Scroll, though?" He asked, and she shrugged.

"The Grey Cowl of Nocturnal was cursed by Nocturnal after it was stolen from her many years ago. Essentially, if you held the Cowl in your possession, everyone would forget about you, even when you weren't wearing it. Well, the Grey Cowl was handed down to Corvus Umbranox, the count of Anvil twenty years ago. He spent sixteen years planning the heist of the Imperial Palace in order to get an Elder Scroll so he could essentially change time and get his identity back... After that, he declared himself as no-longer a member of the guild, and handed the title of the Grey Fox onto me..." Sheora took a deep breath and looked at Martin, who looked to be in shock.

"So, all of the heists by the Fox after Count Umbranox reemerged... those were you?" He asked, and Sheora nodded. "Okay... Okay, craziest contract."

"This one is a bit of a shorter story. So, someone wanted a group of people dead, like, six of them. So, the Brotherhood put it together that they would all be invited into this large manor house. Okay? Well, they would be locked in until they found a chest with all of this money in it. Little did they know, there was no chest, and I, the last person to enter the house, was sent there to murder all of them. Well, I managed to kill them all without them finding out it was me, until the last person, so I got a bonus for that contract." Martin laughed at that.

"So, you're the Grey Fox of the Thieves Guild, what are you to the Dark Brotherhood?" He asked and Sheora shifted nervously.

"I may or may not be the Listener?" She admitted, and Martin looked at her with a raised eyebrow. 

"I have no idea what that is."

"The Dark Brotherhood is ruled by what is called the Black Hand. The Black Hand is composed of four Speakers and one Listener. Each Speaker has a Silencer. The Listener gets contracts directly from the Night Mother, who is a ghost of sorts that hears when people perform the Black Sacrament, and the Night Mother is the wife of Sithis." She stated and watched as Martin's eyes grew wide in understanding.

"So, you lead both the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood." Sheora nodded.

"And Lucien is the Speaker that recruited me into the Brotherhood. He's a Speaker, I ended up as his Silencer before I took the position of Listener."

"So, what I'm getting here is that if it got out to Jauffre that you're a member of either of these guilds, he'd have you thrown out of Cloud Ruler within the day." Sheora nodded.

"Well, I suppose it's a good thing he's not going to know." Martin grinned as Sheora started beaming.

 


	4. Chapter 4

"Listener? Sheora!" Lucien near yelled as he caught sight of the woman lying in the snow.

"Lucien?" She croaked as he approached. She was beaten to Oblivion and back, half frozen and barely conscious. 

"Give me the closest safe place, Sheora," Lucien asked her frantically. "Come on, Sheora." 

"Cloud Ruler Temple." She coughed, and Lucien gently lifted her.

* * *

"Who in Oblivion are you!" Baurus shouted, drawing his Katana. 

"Wait!" Martin yelled. "Is that Sheora?" He asked the man.

"Yes! And she needs medical attention!" Lucien shouted.

"Open the gate!" Baurus yelled reluctantly. "You stay here, I'll go make sure it's her."

* * *

"Is she going to be okay?" Lucien asked, and Martin nodded. 

"She'll wake up in a few days with a terrible headache, but she'll be fine." He glanced at Lucien. "Who are you, exactly?" 

"I'm Lucien Lachance." A dawning look of understanding formed on Martin's face. 

"You know him, Sire?" Baurus asked Martin and the Mage shot the Blade an annoyed look. 

"Sheora's told me of him. I'm safe in his presence, at the least. You're dismissed." Martin nodded to the door. Baurus shot him one last look before retreating from the room.

"She's told me of you, has she?" Lucien asked, leaning against the wall. 

"She's told me that you could probably talk Mankar Camoran out of his crazy plot to end the world. That you're not a good person, but you're fiercely loyal to those you consider family." Martin glanced at him. "The work you do together is important to her, and yeah. I'm not too crazy about her being an assassin, let alone the leader of the Dark Brotherhood, but I'm not going to stop her." He looked Lucien in the eyes. "You mean a lot to her, you know." Lucien laughed.

"I think you have us switched." He grinned. "You mean more to her than anything in the world." 

"No, I don't think I do. You see, Lucien, we both mean a lot to her, in the same way. She cares a lot about both of us, and I know I love her. The only question is, do you?" 

Lucien's face betrayed no emotion as Martin turned away to wet a washcloth and wipe the blood from her face. 

* * *

 

"Sheora!" Martin exclaimed. "You shouldn't be up!" The woman flashed him a tired smile.

"And yet I am, my dear." She smirked before plopping down next to him on the bench. "How exactly did I end up here? The last thing I remember is collapsing in the snow."

"You were right, you know," Martin commented, completely changing the subject. 

"About what?" 

"Lucien is definitely hot." Sheora choked on air.

"Lucien. As in _Lucien Lachance?_ " She hissed, and Martin nodded impassively.

"He's been a bit cold, however. I can only assume that's because he's a bit out of place here." 

"He's here?" She asked, and Martin nodded.

"Yes. You see, he found you passed out in the Bruma countryside, half dead. It's a miracle that you made it here alive." Martin turned a glare on her. "You promised me you'd take care of yourself, Sheora. You almost died, I almost lost you." Martin's eyes were filling with tears and Sheora nearly broke down on the spot.

"I'm so sorry, Martin." She hugged him.

"He's not the only one you have to apologize to."

"Lucien!" Sheora exclaimed, turning to look at the Speaker.

"Thank you, for saving me." She hugged him, ignoring his tensing and smiling as he hesitantly hugged back.

"If I ever have to again, I'm sending you to Sithis myself." He whispered and Sheora laughed.

"And risk upsetting him? Not likely." 

"We need to talk, the three of us," Martin announced, as he stood up and started walking into the West Wing of the Fort, waving off the Blades that went to follow. Sheora and Lucien followed behind him.

"He certainly acts like an Emperor."

* * *

 

"Okay, Prince Martin, what do we need to talk about?"

"I've told you a million times, Lucien, please stop calling me 'Prince Martin.'" Martin glared at the assassin lightheartedly.

"Martin," Sheora groaned as she sat on his bed.

"You never answered my question, Lucien." The future Emperor turned to the Speaker. 

"What question." The Grey Fox narrowed her eyes at the two of them.

"I suppose I have no choice, do I?" The Assassin commented, and the Emperor shook his head.

"No, you don't" 

"Martin, Lucien. What is going on." The Thief asked as Lucien took a step towards the Martin.

"My answer is I do, and after the week I've been here, if she asked the same question to me about you, the answer would be the same." Martin grinned at him, taking a step forward into his personal space and slotting their lips together.

Sheora's breath stopped in her chest.  _Oh. OH. Oh, Divines. Oh Akatosh and Sithis, grant me strength. They're kissing. They're right in front of me, and they're kissing. They're making out. Oh, oh **Divines**. _

The two males finally broke apart and glanced at Sheora. 

"Sheo?" Martin asked. "Are you okay with this?" Sheora glanced at them and nodded.

"Yes. I'm 100% okay with this." She nodded. "Lucien, you..." She couldn't continue, but he got what she meant.

"Yes, Sheora, by Sithis, yes." He stepped forward and took her face in his hands, placing his forehead against hers. "I think I've been in love with you since Applewatch. You looked so beautiful, then. Covered in blood, a feral glint in your eyes as you held Woe to Belisarius' throat. I was so proud of you then, just as I am now." Sheora let out a sob as she wrapped her arms around him.

"I love you, too. Lucien. And you, Martin. I love both of you so, so much." 

"And we love you, our little serpent." Martin brushed his fingers through her hair, his hand on Lucien's back.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS  
> HELP  
> SEND YOUR IDEAS IN THE COMMENTS  
> PLEASE

"Baurus. Baurus. You have to see this." Cyrus grabbed his fellow Blades' hand, dragging him into the West Wing of the temple, and up to the Emperor's Quarters where three people sat.

"When did he get here?" Baurus whisper yelled at Cyrus.

"I have no idea. I've only seen that level of stealth in two groups, Baurus. The Thieves Guild, and the Dark Brotherhood."

"You don't think..." 

"Yeah. What are we going to do?" Baurus seemed to think about it for a few moments before dragging Cyrus down to the Blades Barracks.

"We have a situation." He hissed at the group of blades congregating around a table with some cards and food on it. 

"We think that the man who carried Sheora here when she was injured, remember a few weeks ago? Right. We think he's either a member of the Thieves Guild or the Dark Brotherhood." Baurus stated at every blade in the room turned to look at him.

"We have to do something!" Baragon exclaimed, standing and drawing his Katana. 

"But do we really?" Jena asked.

"What do you mean 'do we really!' Jena, there could be an assassin with the Emperor right at this moment!" Baragon scolded her.

"No, just listen to me. If Martin was Lucien's target, he'd be dead by now. If  _any of us_ were his target, we'd be dead by now. No, I don't think the Emperor is in any danger."

"There's still a chance he's a thief." Ferrum pointed out.

"And the Hero of Kvatch is a convicted thief. I checked out her record, she was imprisoned six years ago for pickpocketing a noble." She stared at him. "And we trust her with our lives." The Blades shifted.

"She's right." Baurus sighed. "Besides, even I can't deny that Lucien and Sheora being here is good for the Emperor. He's sleeping more, eating more. He's losing himself in the Xarxes less." The group seemed to accept this.

"So, what do we do?" Roliand asked, and Baurus shrugged.

"Keep an eye on them, as much as you normally do. But just... let's not tell Jauffre about this. He'd freak." The Blades all nodded and dispersed. 

* * *

"Hello, my dear." A voice purred from behind him, and Martin spun around quickly, an Ice spell forming in his hand.

"Lucien! You scared me!" The Emperor dropped his hand and strode towards the assassin, hugging him tightly. "How are you? How have you been?" He asked.

"I'm fine. Everything has been going well, the Brotherhood got a contract for you yesterday." Lucien smirked. 

"We did!" Sheora laughed from her position against the wall, shrouded in shadows. "The Black Hand decided to throw it out on the principle that... What was the exact wording, Lucien?" She turned to the Silencer.

"I believe it was 'the only way to stop the crisis is to light the Dragon Fires, this 'Martin' is the last surviving member of the Septim Bloodline. We can't afford to kill him.'" He smirked and brushed a hand over the Emperor's cheek. "And even when you're crowned, we'll still find a way to keep you safe." Martin laughed as he leaned up and kissed Lucien. 

"Thank you, my dears. I appreciate it, I rather like living." Sheora laughed and stepped forward to wrap him in a hug from behind. 

"Let's relax, shall we?" Lucien took a step back and pulled a bottle of wine from beneath his cloak. Martin grinned at him and grabbed three goblets. 

"Lets." Sheora smirked.

* * *

"I swear, they're too protective. They won't even let me leave the Temple, even for a few moments." Martin took another sip of his wine and curled further into Lucien's side.

"You should listen to Arquen." Sheora snorted. "When she's not criticizing me for something or the other, or groveling at my feet, she's refusing to let me take a contract. 'It is too dangerous, my Listener! You are too important to the brotherhood!' It's annoying!" She laced her fingers with Martins, laying her head on Lucien's shoulder.

"You're both the leaders of these two groups. Sheora, you can just make her give you a contract, and Martin, just make them let you outside for a little while." Lucien laughed at them. 

"I suppose you're right." Martin grinned and reached up to press a kiss to Lucien's lips before sighing and slouching back down. "I love you two so, so much." Sheora laughed and leaned over Lucien to kiss him.

"And we love you, my Emperor." She grinned as Martin took another sip of his wine, winking at them over the rim.

 


	6. Chapter 6

"Sheora. What are you doing." Martin gave her a flat look. 

"Forging a signature." She answered matter of factly. 

" _Why._ " He asked, exasperated.

"The Imperial City Guards keep taxing the Waterfront District. I'm forging an official notice that this is to  _stop immediately."_ She hissed, turning to look at him. "My people don't have the money to pay the taxes, and when they don't, they get beat!" Martin looked at her shocked.

"Who's signature are you forging?" He asked stepped closer to the desk.

"The captain of the guard." She dipped the quill back into the ink.

"I can get Jauffre to send a message to him, get him to send the letter out himself." He offered, but Sheora shook her head. 

"No, this will work just as well." She turned to him. "This shouldn't happen! These people are barely getting by as it is, and they're beating them, and taking all the money that they have! Martin, it's not right!" She threw the quill down and put her head in her hands as Martin placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I snapped, Martin. You didn't deserve that. I guess... It's just, I'm the Grey Fox, and so everyone expects me to take care of this, and I'm happy to! Don't get me wrong, I love my people, but there's so much I have to do, nowadays. I have my duties to the Brotherhood, I have to lead the Guild and take care of my people on the Waterfront, I have to close the Oblivion Gates because apparently, I'm the only one qualified to do so, and... I don't know it's just a lot." 

"You have a lot on your plate, little serpent." Martin smiled at her. "You need to take a break, you're only one person." Sheora laughed.

"I'm fairly certain that Arquen would crucify me if I took a break from my duties as Listener, and the people on the Waterfront need me, and I can't just leave people to die, Martin." 

"I know, Sheora, just listen to me." He pulled her onto the bed and wrapped her in a blanket. "You're a great leader, but even leaders need a break every once in a while. Just like I need breaks from the Xarxes, and when I take over my duties as Emperor, I'll need a break from that. Just tell them that all of your responsibilities are adding up and you can't even think straight. They'll understand, and if they don't, that's their problem. Not yours." Sheora sighed and nodded as he pulled her, blankets and everything, into his arms. 

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay, yeah. I'll take a break. Stay here for a few days, just rest and hopefully get some sleep."

"Good. I'll help you draft your letters to give Lucien so he can distribute them to your lead people. Arquen and Armond, correct?"

"Armand, but yes." 

"Good, come on, love. Let's get something to eat first, then we'll draft your letters."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is going to go a bit out of order, back to the very beginning of the game i.e. Martin and Sheora's first meeting.

Sheora collapsed into one of the chapel's pews in exhaustion.  _I hadn't expected to make it out of that gate alive._ Her body ached deep into her bones, and she had more cuts and bruises than when she fought Dagoth Ur under the Red Mountian. 

"Hero, are you ready to go? We need your help getting to the castle, but we need to move soon." Captian Matius asked. Sheora nodded and forced herself up. 

"Yeah. Yeah, just give me a few moments to get a priest to heal me, please." The Captian seemed to take stock of how bad of shape she's in.

"Brother Martin! We could use your help over here!" He called and the priest looked up from where he was talking with a civilian and jogged over. 

 _So this is Brother Martin. The Emperors last heir._ He was tall, his sun-darkened skin was dotted with freckles across his nose. His hair was smooth and brown, reaching down to his shoulders in cascading locks. There were visible worry lines beneath his blue-grey eyes, which had a haunted look to them. As if he'd seen too much in his years. He seemed to be around thirty years old,  _He's quite_ _handsome_. Sheora thought.  _Wait, hold up dumbass, he's the future Emperor. This really isn't going to work for you._

“I heard about how you helped the guard drive the Daedra back. Well done.” The priest smiled softly at her before a focused look settled on his face and he set to healing her. Sheora swallowed and forced herself to open her mouth.

"I'm Sheora Orfo, you need to come with me. You're in danger." He frowned at her. Waving Matius away to give them privacy as he lifted her shirt to get to her ribs.

“Danger, you say? You came here to tell me this?” He scoffed. “Explain yourself or let me heal you in peace. There are many others here who actually need your help.” He glanced at a family sitting against the chapel wall. 

"You're Martin, right? The priest?" She asked, hoping that there wasn't another Brother Martin in Kvatch.

“Yes, I’m a priest. Do you need a priest? I don’t think I’ll be much help to you, other than healing. I’m having trouble understanding the gods right now.” He gestured to the people scattered around the chapel, children clinging fearfully to their parents, people holding small relics of their lost family members. “If all this is part of a divine plan, I’m not sure I want to have anything to do with it.”  _He's discouraged._ She thought.  _Like I was when Caius left._

“There  _is_  a plan! We’re part of it!” She near shouted, ignoring all of the people looking at them. Martin waved them off with a kind but slightly strained smile. He turned back to her, angry.

“What plan? What are you talking about? I prayed to Akatosh through that terrible night, but no help came! Only more Daedra!” His grasp on her shoulder tightened as he looked away from her and closed his eyes as though he were in pain. Sheora sighed. 

"I know how you feel. Praying to the Divines, and even Lady Azura, hoping against hope that they will help you, but they don't" She slouched against the wall as Martin snorted humourlessly. 

“What can you possibly know that would help me make sense of this?” Sheora took a shuttering breath.

"This is going to sound crazy, But you are Uriel Septim’s son.”

“ _Emperor_  Uriel Septim? You think the Emperor is my  _father?_ No, you must have the wrong man. I am a priest of Akatosh. My father was a farmer…” Sheora bit her lip, trying to figure out how to go about this. She was positive that if Caius had straight out told her that the Emperor thought she could be the Nerevarine, she'd have called him insane and asked to be escorted back into jail.

“Believe me, Brother, I understand your doubts, but I do  _not_ have the wrong man. The man who sent me here, Jauffre, mentioned you by name and told me to look for you in Kvatch. When I saw the Oblivion Gate outside I knew the Daedra were here for you.” She gripped his arm as he jerked back.

“An entire city destroyed to get at me? Why?! Because I’m the Emperor’s son?”

“I just risked life and limb closing that Gate so that you and everyone else could escape unharmed,” she insisted. “Why would I lie to you?”

Martin sighed and looked at the stained glass window that depicted Akatosh. “I don’t know. It’s strange…I think you might actually be telling the truth.”  _Thank Azura he believes me!_  

“What does this mean? What do you want from me?” He asked her.

“You need to come with me to Weynon Priory. That’s outside of Chorrol. There we’ll meet with Jauffre, a Grandmaster of the Blades, and…he’ll take over from there.”  _Then maybe I'll disappear back to Morrowind._

“You destroyed the Oblivion Gate, they say,” he stated, and she turned to him with a small frown. He continued, gazing at the last of the people walking out of the Chapel, “You gave them hope. You helped them drive the Daedra back.” He turned to face her again, and she found a spark of admiration in his eyes, along with grim determination. “Yes, I’ll come with you to Weynon Priory and hear what Jauffre has to say.”

“Thank you, this all sounds insane, I know, but Jauffre will explain everything far better than I–”

“…still have to find out if the Count still lives. Go with the citizens and we’ll send word as soon as we know.”

“Yes, sir.” Tierra nodded her head and quickly followed the retreating crowd out of the Chapel, Savlian Matius walking towards the other surviving guards.

"Martin, can you go with the guards down to the refugee camp?" She asked, and Martin turned to look at her.

"You're going to help take back the city?" He asked, incredulously. "You're going back out to fight the Daedra?"

"I closed that Divines Damned Gate. This is our chance to drive them from this city,” she replied, still meeting his scrutinizing eyes. “Listen, I think you need to head down with the rest of the refugees. This’ll be a dangerous fight–”

“I’m going with you.” Sheora's heart stopped. 

"Those are Daedra out there, Brother Martin." She paused. " _Sire,_ considering who you are, walking right into their hands is  _not_ the wisest course of action. If we lose you, we lose all hope."

"Sheora Orfo,” He started gravely, raising his hand, palm up, where a swirl of blue magick formed, cold as ice and from the feel of it, incredibly powerful. " I was in the mages guild, and I rose through the ranks very fast. I stayed within the Chapel for the same reason as the guards, and that was to protect these people should anything make its way inside. If I need to fight, then I will.” He closed his hand into a fist, the light of the spell extinguishing, but the determined glint in his eye still glowed. 

Sheora nearly laughed.  _I should have known. The Septim Bloodline always has churned out great mages._

 

"Then let's do this."


	8. Chapter 8

"You sleep rather soundly for a murderer."

Sheora jolted up, a shock spell forming in her hand.

"That's good. You'll need a clear conscience for what I'm about to propose." Sheora looked at him in shock, not lowering her hand.

"Who... who are you?" She asked shakily. 

"I am Lucien Lachance, a speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. And you, you are a killer. A taker of life. A harvester of souls. Your work, your deathcraft, please the Night Mother. And so, I come to you with an offering. An opportunity... to join our rather unique family." Sheora swallowed.  _I can't make him mad. He's an assassin, I can't make him mad. Not that this is the first time I've woken up to a member of the Dark Brotherhood standing over me, least he's not attacking me._ She cleared her throat.

"Please continue, Mr. Lachance." She whispered. 

"Ah, I find your etiquette refreshing. Now, please, listen carefully. On the Green Road to the north of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal my self once more, bearing the love of your new family." Sheora took another breath and plastered a smile on her face.

"Rufio will die by my hand!"

"Excellent! Now, please, accept this token from the Dark Brotherhood. It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood. May it serve your endeavors well. Now, I bid you farewell. I do hope we'll meet again soon." 

"Wait, Mr. Lachance..." She stopped him hesitantly. "You're giving me a choice?" He peered at her curiously.

"Indeed, little murderer. May I ask why you seem so shocked by that?" He asked, and Sheora gave a half-hysterical laugh.

"The last time I woke up to a member of the Dark Brotherhood, they were attempting to assassinate me." He peered at her curiously.

"I doubt the Night Mother would wish us to recruit someone with a contract out for them." He stated, and Sheora shrugged.

"Well, this was six years ago, and apparently a great way to void a Dark Brotherhood Contract is to kill the person who put the contract out." Lucien gave her an odd look.

"How did you know who put the contract out?" 

"I didn't, she admitted to calling the contract, attacked me, and I fought back. I didn't have any more assassins sent after me after that." She grinned at him.

"I see." Lucien nodded. "Well, I formally apologize for the Dark Brotherhood for the treatment you received from what will hopefully be your family. Goodbye, dear murderer." He smiled at her before casting a chameleon spell and vanishing.

* * *

"So the deed is done. How do I know this? You will find that the Dark Brotherhood knows a great many things. For you are now part of the family." She was awoken once more to Lucien standing above her, smirking at the shock spell aimed at his heart. 

"You truly must stop doing that." She gasped, looking at him in exasperation. "One of these days, I might end up letting the spell go by accident."

"I truly doubt that, sister. You are much too good of a mage for that." He smirked at her. "Indeed, I did a bit of digging after our last meeting. You see, there is only one contract that was voided in Morrowind six years ago. Aren't you supposed to be in Akavir, Nerevarine?" Sheora raised an eyebrow at him.

"I suppose I should be, yes, had I ever traveled there. No, Vehk and I, that is Vivec and I started that rumor to give me some semblance of a normal life back. As much as an immortal twenty seven years old can have."

"Immortal?" 

"Didn't do too much research, did you?" She asked with a raised eyebrow, and Lucien shrugged. 

"There is not a lot of information about the Nerevarine outside of Morrowind, and there wasn't enough time for any information to be sent back from there." Sheora nodded.

"Very well, my brief time infected with Corpus, well, infected with the negative aspects of Corpus, I still technically have the disease, but that rendered my body much more durable than the ordinary Dunmers. Then when I destroyed the Heart of Lorkhan, I absorbed some of the energy, it rendered my immortal unless I'm killed. Which, is very hard to accomplish." She shrugged. 

"I see." Lucien nodded. "Well, I am indeed rather glad that you are still with us, sister. You see, the slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio's blood, the ink." He paused and peered at her. "As a speaker of the Black Hand, I directly oversee a particular group of family members. You will join that group, and fulfill any contracts given. You must now go to the city of Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the eastern wall. Enter the basement, and attempt to open the Black Door. You will be asked a question, answer thusly "Sanguine, my brother." You will gain entrance to the sanctuary. Once inside, speak with Ocheeva. We must now take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done. I'll be following... your progress. Welcome to the family." Sheora took a deep breath.

"Lucien, are you aware of what I tend to do in my free time?" She asked him and he tilted his head.

"Indeed, the Dark Brotherhood has been made aware of your affiliation to the Blades and of the quest the future Emperor has sent you on." Sheora looked at him in alarm. "Yes, we are aware of who he is, and of how important he is. No harm will befall Martin Septim by the Dark Brotherhood, sister. No, he is certainly too important to our continuous survival, and indeed the survival of Nirn, to become a target. However, sister, your work with the Blades should not affect your contracts." He sent her a stern glare, and she nodded.

"Thank you, Lucien."

"You are a member of the Dark Brotherhood now, you address me as either brother or Speaker." Sheora nodded.

"Yes, thank you, brother." He sent her a smile and gave a short bow.

"It has been a pleasure, sister, but I truly must be leaving. As a Speaker, my voice is the voice of the Black Hand, our organizations ruling body, and therefore I never truly get a break. Farewell, sister."

"Very well, then." Sheora nodded her understanding. "Farewell, brother."

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is going to catapult us forward in time, to after the Oblivion Crisis has ended, and Martin has been made Emperor.

"I'm going to murder him."

"Sheora..."

"Nope, Lucien, how does the Listener put contracts out?"

"Any member of the Dark Brotherhood may ask their superior to put out a contract, and the message is passed up through the ranks until it reaches the Listener who is to ask the Night Mother directly, so I suppose all you have to do is ask her." Lucien glared at the back of the retreating noble from where he stood, half shrouded in shadows, wine glass in hand.

"No, murder doesn't fix anything." Martin glared at the two of them sternly.

"Murder won't fix anything? Murder fixes many things, _your eminence_ ," Sheora argued. "Lucien and I should know, we're murder experts." She grinned at him as he sighed and shook his head.

"You can't assassinate him," Martin pointed at them mock-sternly. "That's an order from your Emperor." Sheora laughed.

"I am Hortator of all of the great houses of Morrowind! Let alone a member of House Redoran and Telvanni! I'm a _noble_. Not a lowly peasant" She grinned. "Besides, I break the law as a career,  _my Emperor._ " Her eyes glistened with mirth, and Martin broke out in giggles as she poked him.

"Okay, but in all seriousness," he took a deep breath as his laughter died down. "You two can't assassinate everyone who insults me. Well, you can, but I'd rather you didn't."

"Why's that, love?" Lucien brushed a hand down the Emperor's back.

"Well, first of all, they're very important to their countries and if they were assassinated on Imperial soil, they might call for war." He reasoned.

"We have agents in every country. Next." Lucien grinned. Martin turned to them, his face morphing into a more serious expression.

"Okay, this is politics, you two, I'm going to get insulted a lot more than I already have. I need you two with me the entire time, you're not infallible. You will make a mistake, and you will get arrested. It will affect my image, being in a relationship with two known assassins. I won't be able to pardon you two without it harming my image more." He swallowed roughly. "I need you two here with me, you're the only thing keeping me sane." 

"Martin..." Lucien whispered, grabbing his hand in a vice-like grip.

"Please, I don't know what I'd do without you." Sheora pulled the young Emperor into a hug, ignoring the Amulet of Kings cutting into her chest.

"We won't, by Azura, we won't" She felt Martin sag against her and she reached for Lucien's hand, grabbing Martin's she tugged them out of the ballroom, nodding at the guards that opened the door for them.

The trio (or sextet, if you're counting the three Blades trailing behind) quickly reached the Royal Quarters of the Palace, where the Emperor and his family resided. Currently, it was just Martin, Sheora, and Lucien. 

"We really do need to be down there, Sheo." Martin tried once more, this being the fifth time.

"We're going to have a long day tomorrow, seeing all of these nobles and delegates off." Lucien pushed the Emperor into his quarters. Waving one of the Blades off and leaving two of them guarding the doors.

"Indeed," Sheora nodded. "And we've had a long day today, working through all of  these peace talks." 

"Technically they're not peace talks, just forming allegiances, and making sure the treaties are up to date with me taking the throne very recently." Martin corrected her. 

"Yes, yes. Either way, you need to sleep." Sheora ordered as she and Lucien started working him out of his formal regalia and into a soft shirt and breaches.

"I suppose you're right." Martin nodded and collapsed onto the large bed as his two partners changed.

"I'm aware." Lucien chuckled, crawling up over Martin and laying a kiss on his lips before collapsing to the side and pulling the smaller male into his chest. 

"Aw, aren't you two cute." Sheora grinned as she laid down next to them, kissing Lucien before wrapping her arms around Martin and burying her head in his neck.

"Good night, my loves," Martin whispered as he fell asleep, cocooned in warmth.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BACK TO THE MIDDLE OF THE OBLIVION CRISIS
> 
> Maybe someday I'll put these in Chronological order.

Jauffre slid the door to the Emperor's Quarters open silently and stepped inside before freezing. 

"Baurus."

"Yes, Grandmaster?"

"Why is there a random man in the Emperor's bed?" 

"Oh! You haven't met him yet, have you?" Baurus asked.

"No. Who is he?"

"His name's Lucien Lachance, he, Sheora, and Martin have been in a relationship since just after Sheora found the Daedric Artifact."

"And you didn't think to inform me? Or check anything about him?" Jauffre hissed, missing Lucien crack his eyes open and silently shake Martin and Sheora awake.

"Grandmaster-"

"Baurus, those robes over there are  _Black Hand robes._ " Baurus glanced over at the bed.

"Jauffre-"

"No, I want him out of here immediately. He's a threat to the Emperor!" Jauffre turned and stormed out of the room.

The three on the bed sat up, each of them throwing cautious looks a Baurus.

"I can't let him stay, I'm sorry." Baurus shook his head.

"You're not worried that he's an assassin?" Sheora asked, and Baurus gave her a flat look.

"We're not stupid, Sheora. We've known that he was a member of either the Dark Brotherhood or the Thieves Guild since he snuck in here one time." Baurus waved his hand. We know you three care for each other, more than anything, so we don't care. Jauffre, however, is a bit more _conservative_ than the rest of us." 

"Well, if Lucien has to leave, I should probably do so as well." Baurus gave her a shocked look.

"You're a member of the Dark Brotherhood?" 

"And the Thieves Guild," she nodded. "In fact, I'm Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, and Grandmaster of the Thieves Guild." She leaned her head on Lucien's shoulder and smiled as Martin brushed his fingers through her messy hair.

"Grandmaster?" Baurus asked, confused.

"The Grandmaster is the one who leads the Guild, and requests special jobs," she explained.

"So the Grey Fox doesn't exist?" Baurus asked, and Sheora smirked.

"Bold of you to assume that I'm not the Grey Fox." Baurus raised an eyebrow.

"You're not a few thousand years old. Sorry, I'm not buying it." Martin started snickering.

"Baurus," He finally calmed down enough to speak. "The entire point behind the Grey Cowl of Nocturnal is to hide the wearers' identity. There have been hundreds of Grey Foxes since it was first stolen from the Daedric Prince. Sheora is just the first one that doesn't have to suffer the curse she put on it." 

"What curse?" Lucien asked.

"When the cowl was stolen from Nocturnal, she amplified the spell that hides the wearers' identity to the point that, even with the cowl off, no one would be able to tell the wearers identity. They could be standing in front of their spouse, screaming 'I'm here! I'm me!' and the spouse wouldn't even process it." Sheora explained, gripping Lucien and Martin's hands.

"Well, I'm glad that you didn't have to go through that," Baurus nodded at her. "However, Lucien, you really do need to leave before the Grandmaster gets back in here." 

"I suppose you're correct." He nodded, kissing Martin and Sheora both on the cheek before standing and slipping his robe over the dark breaches, strapping his sword onto his waist, and throwing his hood up. "Goodbye, my Emperor." He bowed at the waist to Martin who gave him a slightly pained smile.

"Bye, Luce." The Heir gave a small wave.

"And goodbye to you as well, my Listener." He bowed his head to Sheora, who adopted a very serious expression.

"May the Dread Father go with you, and the Night Mother wrap you in her cold embrace, Speaker." She gave a grin. "Say 'hello' to my favorite Vampire, will you?" He nodded and pulled both her and Martin in for a quick kiss before slipping out the window before the door opened once more.

"Good, he's gone." Jauffre nodded, turning to Martin. "I'm not sure you know this, M-"

"Get out." Martin pointed at the door. 

"Martin-" Jauffre tried once again.

"I am well aware of who he is, Jauffre. Now get out, so that Sheora and I may attempt to sleep." He laid back down, pulling the Dunmer down onto his chest. Jauffre opened his mouth to say something but was quickly pushed out of the room by Baurus, who gave him a 'don't be an idiot' look.

 

**One Month Later**

"What's wrong, Martin?" Baurus asked.

"Tired, mostly." The Heir shrugged. "Haven't been sleeping well since Sheora left to get more reinforcements for Bruma." He buried his head in his hands.

"This is about the time Lucien would slip in your window and cuddle you until you sleep, isn't it?" Baurus asked, and Martin nodded into his hands. 

"He won't come back here, not after seeing how Jauffre reacted, it could compromise the Brotherhood, and it could get him killed if any of the Blades decided he was a threat." 

"None of us would do that, except for Jauffre." Baurus sighed. "I'm sure Sheora will be back soon." He ruffled the hair of the future Emperor and retreated as a low powered frost spell coated him in a thin layer of frost.

"Martin," a voice hissed from the shadows, and he whipped around, seeing Sheora in her Black Hand robes.

"Sheora?" He scrambled up. "What's going on?" She shook her head.

"West wing, go, I'll meet you there." She slipped her Cloak Ring on her finger and vanished from sight. Martin quickly stood up and strode to the doors to the West wing, waving off all Blades except for Baurus. 

"Sheora," he started as he entered his quarters, before stopping dead.

"Lucien! By Akatosh, what happened to him?"

"We think he was poisoned." A woman in Black Hand robes stated. "I'm Eolaia, Speaker for the-" (Eolaia pronounced (Eo-laya)

"No, you're not," Martin cut her off. "And I don't want to know where any other sanctuaries are. The walls have ears, Speaker." She nodded. 

"Indeed I am not, and indeed they do, can you help him?" Martin laughed humorlessly. 

"I was a priest for several years, Eolaia, I can help him." He felt his forehead before bustling over to a table where he had set up his Alchemy lab and getting to work.

Moments later, he near sprinted back to the bed where Lucien laid, getting paler by the minute, and poured a potion down his throat. 

"Come on, love." He murmured, rubbing his throat lightly. "Just swallow it, Luce. Please." Finally, Lucien swallowed the liquid and near instantly color flooded back into his skin. Sheora gave a sob of relief, collapsing into one of the chairs and throwing back her hood.

"Oh thank Akatosh." Martin ran a hand through his hair, placing a kiss on Lucien's brow before collapsing in the chair Sheora vacated to slip out of her robes and into a green tunic.

"What are they doing here!" Everyone spun to look at Jauffre, who drew his sword and took a step forward, only to be met with Martin holding his hand out, a very powerful ice spell forming.

"Don't. You. Dare." He hissed, everyone looking at him in shock. 

"My Emperor-" The Grandmaster of the Blades started, but Martin cut him off.

"Shut up, and get out, Jauffre." Everyone looked at him in shock. "I don't care, I've known he was an assassin since before I met him! I don't care! I care about him, so would you just drop it!" Martin dropped his hand and turned back to Lucien, ignoring the gaping Grandmaster behind him.

Sheora walked over and used a hand to gently shove him out of the room before shutting the door.

"Thank you for your aid, Speaker," she nodded at the other woman. "You are dismissed." Eolaia nodded and quickly slipped out of the still open window, closing it behind her before slipping off in the night.

Everyone was startled out of their own thoughts by the sound of coughing from the bed in the center of the room.

"Lucien?" Sheora sat on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through the Speakers long hair. "How do you feel?" 

"Like I was just trampled by a hundred Shadowmeres," he croaked. "What happened?" 

"You were poisoned." Martin sat on his other side and grabbed his hand, brushing his thumb over Lucien's knuckles.

Lucien cracked his eyes open, peering at them tiredly. 

"I take it you're the one who healed me," he stated, and Martin nodded.

"More like I made an overpowered Cure Poison potion, but yes." Lucien smiled weakly and squeezed Martin's hand lightly.

"Thank you, love."

"Any time, my light. Any time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it isn't obvious, I'm really not a fan of Sock Drawer Jauffre.
> 
> He just made a lot of bad decisions for someone who leads an international spy network dedicated to protecting the Emperor. 
> 
> Such as placing the Amulet of Kings in his sock drawer/secret room that isn't all that secret.   
> Or letting it out that Martin exists.  
> Or just any number of things, really.
> 
> I'm also a fan of Martin being a badass. So, yeah.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BACK TO AFTER THE OBLIVION CRISIS  
> BECAUSE WHAT IS A TIMELINE???  
> Also, this one is kinda just a bunch of really short one-shots? IDK. I like it.

Martin slipped into his quarters silently, slipping out of his formalwear and into a tunic and breeches. He gazed at his two partners, a mess of limbs, hair, and blankets in his bed. Sheora's white hair was tangled with Lucien's black, her blue-grey skin contrasted greatly with his tanned, and Martin stifled a laugh as she sneezed. For such dangerous people, they slept like rocks. 

Martin easily slipped into the bed behind Sheora, smiling as the two of them stirred awake.

"Easy," he whispered. "It's just me. Go back to sleep." He brushed his fingers through their long hair, untangling them and resituating Sheora so the two were laying on opposing sides of him, each with their heads on his chest. He quickly fell asleep to the sounds of his loves breathing.

* * *

"Your hair is so soft after you wash it." Sheora brushed her fingers through Lucien's hair. "Seriously, how do you do it?" The Speaker chuckled.

"I have a special oil I run through it," he turned and placed a kiss on her cheek. "It keeps it clean longer. I never thought about it making it soft, but I'm glad you like it." He returned to his previous position, sitting on the ground with his head in Sheora's lap as she sat in one of the armchairs.

"I do, indeed my dear.

* * *

"Lucien, would it be okay if I borrowed one of your cloaks?"

"Martin, why? You must have several in each style and color imaginable!" Lucien gave a bewildered laugh.

"They don't smell like you, though." Lucien gave him a small smile and passed one of his black cloaks to the Emperor.

"Here you are, my dear. Be safe, and listen to Baurus if he tells you not to do something stupid!" He called as Martin wrapped the cloak around his shoulders, gave him a kiss and swept from the room.

"I'll try, my light!"

* * *

"You've got to stop doing that." 

"Doing what?"

"Saying things that make me want to kiss you." Sheora turned a deep purple color at Martin's words.

"Martin..." Her breath stuttered in her chest as he backed her against one of the cold stone walls. His blue-grey eyes seemed to turn amber in the candlelight as he leaned in and kissed her. 

"Sheora, do you want this?" He brushed a finger over her cheekbone.

"Yes, Azura,  _yes._ " She surged up and smashed her lips to his as he grinned at her.

* * *

"Oh! Look at all the pretties!" Sheora beamed.

"My star, could you please stop talking about the daggers the way you talk about puppies?"

"But Martin! Aren't they wonderful?" Lucien grinned at him.

"You two are terrible, and I hate you."

"No, you don't, dear Dragon." Sheora stood on her toes to kiss him.

"You're right. I don't." Martin smiled fondly at her.

"Look at this one, Martin." Lucien passed him a beautifully carved dagger and its sheath, wrapped in a silk.

The blade itself was a curved off-white material, while the hilt was wood, with a dragons head carved as the pommel, dark purple leather was wrapped around the hilt for a more comfortable grip. The eye of the dragon was an amber gemstone.

"Is that a tooth?" Sheora peered at it.

"I think it is," Martin carefully took the blade from Lucien's hand. "By Akatosh, look at the carvings on this..." 

"The dragon looks so real." Sheora brushed her fingers over the carving.

"It's a part of a set," Ocarim announced, and the trio turned to look at him. "They have been down here for many years, it was only a few years after the Akavir came to Cyrodiil that they were forged. That tooth is from a dragon that was slain, the leather reflects the color of his scales. The runes carved into the blade are of the Dragon language, it reads Qahfeynag. Armor, Bane, Burn. There are two other blades in the set." The weapons master of the Imperial Palace explained. 

"Where are they?" Sheora asked, and the Altmer smiled before ambling off. He came back a few moments later, holding two blades wrapped in a similar cloth.

"Their names were Kolkrahvul and Fusrahgot. Clif, cold, dark, and force, anger respectively." The old elf held the two daggers out to them, and Sheora and Lucien both took one. The one belonging to Kolkrahvul had dark grey, almost black leather wrapped around the hilt, while the one belonging to Fusrahgot had deep red. The eyes were both amber.

"They're beautiful," Martin commented.

"Indeed, they were a wedding gift for one of your ancestors. He had two spouses, they each took one." The Altmer gave them a knowing look before bowing and slipping away. Martin gave a short laugh.

"I suppose we're not as subtle as we think we are." He grinned, stepping forward and wrapping the leather belt for Qahfeynag around Sheora's waist, grinning as Lucien took Fusrahgot and wrapped it tied it around Martins. Sheora laughed as she situated Kolkrahvul around Lucien's.

Martin gave each of them a kiss.

"A gift, my light, and star," the Emperor smiled fondly at them. "May they save your lives a million times, and always bring you back to me." Lucien's eyes glinted in the low light, and Sheora grabbed both of their wrists, dragging them off to the Emperor's quarters.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WAS NOT PLANNING TO GIVE THEM DAGGERS  
> HOLY CRAP  
> I LOVE THEM  
> And yes, the second to last one is like, the beginning of a smut scene, but I don't write that, so you get that.  
> Also, the ending to the last one can be the transition into a smut scene. Or they can just cuddle for three hours. Really, the possibilities are endless.  
> I also have no idea what colors Dunmer blush as so purple it is.


	12. Chapter 12

"You need a haircut," Martin commented, brushing his fingers through Sheora's waist length white hair.

"Lucien's hair is long!" She protested. "You're not saying anything about his."

"My hair is only to my mid back, little star," Lucien glared at her. "And I'm not cutting it." Martin shook his head.

"No, yours is fine, Sheora's probably hasn't been cut since she was a child, and it's _thick_." Sheora shrugged.

"It hasn't been cut since I was seven, at least." Martin and Lucien winced.

"The age you were thrown out onto the streets." 

"Yeah. I just haven't had anyone to cut it for me, I guess." Martin nodded. 

"Will you let me cut it?" Sheora hesitated.

"As long as I get to pick the style." Martin nodded in agreement.

"That sounds fair. How about in a week?" He asked, and Sheora nodded. I guess, yeah.

* * *

"And, I'm finished." Martin ran a damp swatch of cloth over her head to clean off the shaved hair and handed her a small mirror.

Her hair was shaved to the scalp on either side and in the center, she had a single strip of hair that stretched to the middle of each eyebrow. It stopped about halfway down the back of her head, but the length of the hair reached about her shoulders and was pulled up in a pony-tail.

"You look good." Lucien nodded. "It suits you." Sheora blushed.

"Thanks. My head feels 100% lighter now." She ran a hand over the shaved bits. "But... I think I like it." Martin grinned.

"I'm glad. I think it looks great, as well." Martin brushed a hand through it, pulling the strip of leather holding it up before taking a comb to it and throwing it back up.

"However," Sheora hesitated. "I don't see how I can make this formal." Lucien rolled his eyes. "Just braid it into a bun." Sheora turned to him.

"Next time it's required, I'll do your hair." He grinned and kissed her on the cheek before striding over to a locked chest on the floor by the bed. "Here, get dressed. We have to be in Bravil by tomorrow for you to receive the contracts." Lucien slipped his Black Hand robes on and attached Venenum to his hip, and placed Kolkrahvul in his boot. Sheora did the same, slipping Trueflame into its sheath on her hip, and placing Qahfeynag in its wrist holster. 

"Be safe, you two." Martin gave them a stern glare before kissing both of them on the cheek. "I love you both, now, go and come back to me."

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to do this for a while now, so, Sheora is officially Sheogorath.
> 
> It's done. 
> 
> Sheo is now Sheo. 
> 
> Ta da.
> 
> Why are you still here? 
> 
> GO READ!
> 
> Jk, I love you guys.

Sheora knocked on the door to Martin's quarters nervously, waiting for his response. Blade-Sister Atuut (at-ut) gave her a sympathetic look, sensing that something was wrong.

"It's open." He called.

Sheora took a deep breath before pushing open the door and stepping inside. Martin was seated at his desk, writing out some official notice or another.

"Sheora! You know you don't have to knock, love." He smiled at her but grew serious as he took in her nervous shifting. "What's wrong?"

"Martin..." She trailed off, glancing away from his piercing stare. "I think I messed up."

Martin went to say something but was cut off by Lucien slipping into the room. The speaker instantly took stock of Sheora's nervous and shamed appearance and Martin's worried face.

"What's wrong?" He asked gently, brushing his hood back and looking at her, concerned.

"I messed up. Big time." She stared at the floor. 

"Beloved," Martin admonished gently. "We can't help you if you don't tell us what's wrong." 

"I think I just accidentally became a Daedric Prince."

The two were silent. Until-

"What?!"

Sheora flinched back, almost to tears.

Martin took a deep breath and gently took her hands, guiding her to the large bed and settling her down in the center. "Deep breaths, Sheora. I'm sorry I snapped. Tell us what happened."

"You know the door in the Niben Bay that you sent me to investigate?" She asked before plowing on. "The door seemed to be made of three faces all mashed together, the middle one's mouth had a swirling blue/white portal in it. I talked to the guard, who was sent to keep the people coming out from harming others.

"Soon after, a man emerged and attacked the guard and I. We killed him, and I heard a voice calling for a champion. I entered the doorway and found myself in a small room with a desk, and two chairs. I was greeted by a bald fellow named Haskill. He explained to me that I had entered the Shivering Isles, the land of Sheogorath."

She stopped and glanced up at the two of them.

"It's okay, Sheora," Lucien smiled at her. "We're not mad at you, we will never be truly mad at you." He brushed the tears from her cheeks and gestured her on.

"Haskill gave me a choice, I could leave and return to Mundas, or I could continue on into the Isles. I chose to continue. The walls of the room I was in dissolved into butterflies, opening up a path in an area known as the Fringe, to a small settlement called Passwall. Passwall is a settlement of people who are waiting to enter the true parts of the Isles, through the Gates of Madness. The gates, however, were guarded by a creature named the Gatekeeper. A group of adventurers tried to take it on, they failed."

"No surprise there," Lucien muttered.

Sheora ignored him. "I ended up meeting a woman named Relmyna Veremin. Nasty woman, she created the Gatekeeper, and according to Nanette Don, who she name dropped, her tears can open it up to harm.

"So, I waited until that night for Veremin to visit the Gatekeeper and after she left, she had dropped a handkerchief with tears on it. I managed to get one off of it, then I met up with a Nord named Jayred Ice-Veins.

"I helped him get bones from the previous Gatekeeper, and he made arrows from them. I poisoned one of the arrows with the tear, and we attacked. Eventually, the Gatekeeper fell dead, and we recovered two keys from the body. Haskill explained that one was for the gate of Dementia and one was for the gate of Mania.

"Mania is an exciting, vibrant world however its citizens are more likely to kill you. Dementia is a more grey, dreary world, but its citizens will accept you easily. I chose Dementia, Jayred chose Mania." 

"You always were one for more dark colors." Martin poked her in the side, grinning as she jumped.

"Anyways, I made my way to New Sheoth, the capital city of the Isles, and met Sheogorath." She gave them an unimpressed look. "He threatened to skip rope with my entrails, but other than that it was quite a pleasant conversation."

Martin sighed. "Other than the threat of bodily harm."

Sheora nodded sagely. "He explained that I needed to go to Xedilian, an old fort in Dementia just southeast of the Fringe, and activate it once more. It was once used to test those wishing to enter the Shivering Isles, and a ward from adventurers.

"I made my way to, and through the fort until I came to the Resonator, and I hit it and reactivated it. It was stupidly easy. Anyways, a teleport pad opened up to the upper areas of Xedilian, and I met Kiliban Nyrandil, the caretaker. He told me that Xedilian was a testing ground or torture device built solely to get rid of pesky adventurers...and then I was given free rein to test it out as 3 adventurers walked into the 'mousetrap' of sorts. In each room, I was given the choice of pressing one of two buttons. Each button represents either mania or dementia and in turn results in either one of the adventurers getting whacked, or going insane."

"I take you made them go insane?" Lucien asked.

Sheora nodded. "Yeah. Anyways, I ended up with a sword called Duskfang, and Dawnfang. It switches at 6 am and pm respectively.” She walked over to her pack and pulled the sword out, handing it to Martin.

“This is amazing,” he marveled.

“I know, right?” She giggled, settling back down on the bed, Martin placed the sword down on the desk and climbed behind her, pulling her into his chest as Sheora continued her story.

“I went to leave, and I was attacked by three Knights of Order. I ended up in another conversation with Nyrandil who shared a bit of information, and I headed back to New Sheoth to inform Sheogorath, who gave me the ability to summon Haskill.

"Sheogorath decided that I needed to learn more about the Isles, and he sent me to the Duke of Mania, and the Duchess of Dementia. The Duke, Thadon, wanted me to find his “Chalice of Reversal.” I ended up having to take a drug to find it and ended up addicted. The Chalice helped with that, but I still ended up curled up in my room in Sickly Bernice's Taphouse for three days, until Haskill found me and helped me.”

Martin tucked his face into her neck. “I’m so, so sorry you had to go through that.” His voice was muffled, but Sheora giggled anyways.

“Martin, it’s not your fault, and I’m better now.” She reached back and brushed her fingers through his hair.

Martin pulled back shifted Sheora to Lucien’s lap. She pulled her boots off and placed her feet in the Emperor's lap, grinning as he started massaging them.

“Continue, love,” Lucien hummed in her ear.

“Okay, the Duchess wanted me to find a traitor in her court. Eventually, I found a Khajit named Ma'zaddha, who more-or-less admitted to it, but I had no evidence.

"I talked to Sickly Bernice and found out that Ma'zaddha was having late night talks with the captain of Syl’s Dark Seducer guard, Nelrene. I confronted Ma’zaddha, who told me he’d get evidence against the Seducer. It ended up with him dead, but he managed to hide the evidence in the form of Nelrene’s sword.

"I confronted her, and she pointed me to Muurine, who admitted it, and I reported back to Syl. Unlike Thadon, who gave me nothing, Syl gave me a bow, Ruin’s Edge.” She pointed over to the bow she dropped by the door.

“It looks quite dangerous.” Lucien purred, running his fingers over Sheora’s arms.

She giggled, swatting his hands away. “Stop! That tickles!” She grinned up at him.

“Okay,” Lucien grinned at her. “Continue.”

“I returned to Sheogorath, who told me I needed to head to Cylarne and retrieve the Fires of Agnon to shine above New Sheoth and return hope to his people. However, the Golden Saints and Dark Seducers, Auriel and Mazken, are each other’s worst enemies. They hate each other, and so I had to choose a side to help. I chose the Mazken because I get along with them more.”

She shrugged. “The Auriels were planning a full-frontal assault, so I had to help defend their half. Two of the Mazken sacrificed themselves to light the flame, and I carried it back to New Sheoth. I was greeted by two priests upon entering Sacellum Arden-Sul, one from Mania and one from Dementia. Both offered praise to me if I decided to light the torch in favor of their 'house,' but they also offered a full-on bribe. I chose Dementia, no surprise because I loved the people and the city there.”

Martin shook his head fondly. "Of course you do."

Sheora grinned at them. “They’re great. I helped cure Bernice of a sickness she had and met someone who can make armor out of something called “Madness Ore.” They’re just great. Though I do like the Amber armor better.”

Martin laughed. “I’m glad you like them, beloved.” He moved his massage up from just her feet up to her calves, grinning as she groaned.

“I collected my bribe, the Raiment of Intrigue, a dress with Fortify Speed, Fortify Security, Fortify Luck and Sneak enchantments. It’s folded up in my pack right now. But, ah, I talked to Sheogorath, who was sitting in one of the pews and he told me that I had to take over the governing position of either Mania or Dementia.”

“This is going to end in a death,” Lucien muttered.

Martin reached over and tapped his leg to get him to shut up.

“You’re not wrong. I chose to take over Dementia, but to do so, I had to kill Syl and take her heart. However, she was locked up in her private quarters. I bribed two members of her court, Anya and Kithlan, Anya distracted her Mazken guards and Kithlan gave me the keys to her quarters. Unfortunately, she wasn’t in there. So, I chased her down through an old ruin beneath her part of the palace. I fought off several Mazken before I was able to kill her. I took her heart back to Sacellum Arden-Sul and completed the ritual of ascension, thus becoming the Duchess of Dementia and gaining the ability to summon a Mazken."

Sheora could feel Lucien's chest shaking as he chuckled. "My, you're going to be a mage by the end of this, aren't you?"

She chose to ignore him.

"I talked to Sheogorath, who expressed his happy approval of my newfound status in the Isles, but before he could finish applauding, Thadon burst through the door. He and Sheogorath had some words, then Thadon defected to the forces of Jyggalag and I was put in charge of helping the remaining forces in defending what's left of the Fringe.”

“Hold on, who’s Jyggalag?” Lucien asked.

Sheora sighed. “I forgot to explain that, didn’t I?”

Martin nodded.

“Okay. Jyggalag is the Daedric Prince of Order. He believes everything should follow a set path. During the Greymarch, he sets out, and half conquers half destroys the Shivering Isles. The Greymarch always happens at the end of an era. Sheogorath wanted to change this, he wanted to finally defeat Jyggalag for once. I’ll explain more about him later.”

“He sounds annoying,” Lucien muttered.

“Oh, he is.” Sheora nodded. “Anyways, I traveled to the Fringe and helped take my new Mazken Lieutenant to bring it back, even going so far as destroying an obelisk that was allowing the Knights of Order to appear. I also helped save Sheldon. I then made the trek all the way back to New Sheoth.

"A conversation with Sheogorath revealed that he needed a new Gatekeeper. I traveled to Veremin’s home and convinced her to help me, after delving through various dungeons to get what she needed to create the next Gatekeeper, we traveled to the Gates of Madness. After an extremely long ritual, I now have a son that is ten feet tall and made of mutilated body parts.”

Martin choked on a laugh. “I’m sure he’s a great son,” he grinned.

Sheora nodded faux seriously. “Indeed, he is. Always protecting the Gates from pesky adventurers.”

“He sounds perfect.” Lucien nodded, and the three of them shared about three seconds of silence before dissolving into laughter.

“Okay, okay. What happened next?” Martin asked as their laughter subsided.

“Sheogorath sent me to help the homeland of the Auriels, Brellach. I met up with the commander, Staada, and aided them in taking the place back from the Knights and reopening the Wellspring, which allows their respawning, well, if it’s closed they all turn to stone. I was given the ability to summon an Auriel and a set of Auriel armor. I then returned to New Sheoth, and I saw Sheogorath turn into Jyggalag.” Martin and Lucien looked at her in shock.

“Wait. What?” Martin asked, and Sheora laughed.

“A few quests before this, I found out that Sheogorath and Jyggalag are the same beings. You see, Jyggalag was extremely powerful, and the other Princes did not like that he was more powerful than him. So they cursed him to become what he hated most. Madness, Chaos, Discord. At the end of every era, he would return to being Jyggalag and destroy the Isles.”

“I take it you weren’t too happy about that.” Lucien correctly deduced.

“No, I wasn’t. Anyways, Haskill managed to convince me that not all hope was lost and he instructed me that I needed to remake the Staff of Sheogorath, the symbol of the Madgods position because the staff had lost all of its power. Unfortunately, no one knew how to craft it. Not all hope was lost, however.”

Martin snorted at Sheora’s over dramatic storytelling.

“Haskill sent me to find Dyus. Dyus was the Chamberlain to Jyggalag and the keeper of his great library of knowledge. I traveled to what was left of the library and talked to him. He reminds me a bit of Haskill, except instead of sarcastic wit and insults, it's just insults.”

“So, he’s like the delegates from the Summerset Isles?” Martin asked, and Sheora nodded.

“Exactly like them, except he is of Imperial form and wears all black.”

“Pleasant,” Martin muttered.

“Moving on. Apparently, I needed a branch from the Tree of Shades and an eye from Ciirta, who had seen too much in her time living in the Shivering Isles. I retrieved them and brought them back to Dyus, who crafted the staff. Unfortunately, I had to power the staff. To do so, I returned to New Sheoth.

"I was supposed to be able to activate a nifty fountain behind the throne to imbue the power of Sheogorath into my new staff...but the Priests of Order had locked it up with Obelisk crystals, and I needed to destroy them, release the Obelisks from all the springs and ponds and save the day.” She grinned.

“What are priests of order?” Lucien asked.

“They’re the citizens of the Isles that defected to Jyggalag.” She glared at the wall. “My own people! Workin' for the enemy!” Her voice slipped into a lighter form of Sheogorath's accent.

She huffed and slumped back against Lucien, who rubbed her shoulders comfortingly.

“Continue, love.” Martin encouraged.

“I traveled around the Fountainhead and killed priests of Order, and destroying Obelisks. I also managed to kill Thadon, the n’wah. I returned to the Fountain and imbued my staff with the power of madness. I turn around to ask Haskill what to do next, and Dylora, the Mazken general, rushes in from the Palace Courtyard. The Greymarch had started the final attack. I had to go out into the Courtyard and help drive back Order's forces. I shut down the two Obelisks in the Courtyard, and Jyggalag himself appeared.”

Martin sucked in a breath, and Sheora felt him press his hand to her leg and send a pulse of Restoration magic through her.

She laughed lightly and sent him a reassuring smile. “He was taller than the Altmer, and I won’t lie.  I was terrified. It was one of the longest battles I’ve ever been a part of, but I managed to defeat him.”

“You defeated a Daedric Prince, in their own realm.” Lucien shook his head, amazed.

“He insulted me through the entire battle, so I was pretty pissed.”

She grinned at his eye roll. “I managed to get a few breaths before a vision of his face appeared. He spoke to me, talking of his curse, and the past Greymarches. He ended it with ‘I will take my leave, and you will remain here, mortal. Mortal? Queen? God? It seems uncertain. This realm is yours. Perhaps you will grow to your station. Fare thee well, Sheogorath, Prince of Madness.’ Then he disappeared.

"I returned to Haskill, who explained to me my duties to the Isles and the powers I had gained. I’m connected to the Isles now, I can feel them and everything happening in them.”

Martin and Lucien seemed to mull over this.

“Well,” Martin finally said something. “I think you might be right. You're probably at least partly a Daedric Prince now.” He smiled at her comfortingly. “However, I do want to see the Shivering Isles.”

Sheora barked out a laugh. “If you think the Blades would ever agree to that, you’re as insane as I am.” She grinned at him as he laughed.

“Well, I’m certainly not sane, and I most defiantly won’t be sane by the time I die, with all of these politics.” Martin grinned at her before turning serious. “I think we can agree that this isn’t to leave this room.”

Lucien nodded. “Indeed. Sheora, you should counsel with the Night Mother, inform her about this. I imagine that she will want to know that your time will be divided even more.”

Sheora nodded in agreement. “By Azura, between the Guild, the Brotherhood, the Mages, the Fighters, the Blades, plus the Arena, and my duties to Morrowind, and now the Isles, I’m getting spread pretty thin.”

She suddenly sat up and dashed to the desk. She started scribbling on a spare piece of Parchment.

“What are you doing, love?” Martin asked.

“I’m sending a message to the Arena, saying that I’m not going to be doing anymore matches.”

She sealed the letter with a dab of purple wax, and the imprint of the Moon-and-Star and took it to Atuut.

“Hey, At. Can you make sure a courier gets this?” She asked, and the Blade nodded.

“Of course, Blade-Sister.” Atuut grinned and slipped the letter into the pouch on her hip, quickly going back to scanning the hallway.

Sheora thanked her and walked back into the room, slipping back onto the bed.

“Hey, Sheora,” Martin started. “Can you summon Haskill here? And Maybe a Mazken or Auriel?” Sheora grinned and nodded. She raised her hand and cast a conjuration spell at the wall. An orb of purple and black smoke appeared, and when it cleared a man in an odd black and red garb, with a golden amulet was standing there.

“Yes, my Lord?” He asked in a very dry and bland voice.

“Haskill! Meet the two men I was telling you about! Lucien Lachance, and Martin Septim.” She gestured to the two respectively.

“A pleasure.” Haskill nodded at them, his tone never changing. Martin looked like he was given the greatest gift in the world.

“How are things in the Isles since I left?” Sheora quickly turned serious.

“The Auriels and Mazken are not listening to me, per usual. However, they have not started fighting. Relmyna Veremin is continuing to be a nuisance, she keeps requesting to see the ‘real Sheogorath,’ despite my continued insistence that he has permanently returned to being Jyggalag.”

Sheora gave a grumbled sigh. “Tell her that I said to fuck off,” Sheora ordered. “As much as I miss the old idiot, he’s gone. I’m Sheogorath now, and I can and will kick her out of the realm. Let’s see how long she lasts out here.”

Her smile turned wicked.

“Of course, my Lord. Anything else?”

“Yes, tell my generals to get their immortal asses over here.” Haskill bowed his head and disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke. Moments later, an Auriel appeared out of a shining golden light, and a Mazken appeared out of a light-swallowing shadow.

“My Lord Sheogorath.” The Auriel, Aurig Desha, bowed to her. The Mazken, Grakendo Udico, followed suit.

“How may we aid you, my Lord?” Udico asked, and Sheora glared at them.

“Why, in Sithis’ name, are you not listening to Haskill?”

“My Lord, with all due respect, he is male.” Desha spat out the last word. “He has no fighting abilities, and he does not wish to learn!” She looked genuinely annoyed by this. 

“Indeed, my Lord. For once I agree with the Saint.” Udico spat the word Saint out the same way Desha spat out male. “How do you expect him to lead your realm if cannot defend it?”

Sheora gave Martin an unimpressed look. “It is not Haskill’s job to defend the Isles. It is yours,” she snarled and pointed an accusing finger at the pair. “I put Haskill in charge of making sure everything is running smoothly, and sometimes that includes directing you to do things. Such as telling you to take care of threats to the Isles. If I hear that you are disobeying his orders, and by extent, my orders, I will remove your ranks to the lowest your orders have.” Her voice had gotten quieter as she continued, and both Daedra looked terrified.

“Yes, my Lord.” The Auriel and Mazken both bowed, and Sheora dismissed them both with a wave of her hand.

"That was entertaining and slightly terrifying," Lucien commented.

"My love," Martin was looking at her intensely. "Are you aware that when you got angry at your generals, your eyes turned purple? With no whites at all?"

Sheora looked at Martin shocked. "Um... no, I didn't. I suppose I shouldn't get angry anymore, it wouldn't do well for a member of the council to see my eyes become purple."

"Indeed," Lucien nodded and slipped Sheora off of her lap. 

The youngest of the Princes curled into Martin's side and sighed contently as Lucien laid next to her and wrapped his arm around the two of them.

The three of them fell asleep quickly, forgetting even to change into sleepwear.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say How The Hell Did Martin Survive the Oblivion Crisis? No? Well, here it is anyways.

“Martin.” She called, her eyes fixated on the statue that had formed in front of her. It stayed still.

 

“Martin,” she tried again. “Please come back.” She stumbled over to the stone dragon, falling to the ground in hysterics.

 

‘What happened!” She spun around, standing up in the process, she hadn’t even heard Ocato come in. “Where’s Martin? I must congratulate him!  Mehrunes Dagon is defeated! Cast back into Oblivion! We won!”

 

“Martin is gone.” Her voice sounded distant, even to her ears. Like it was someone else speaking and she was underwater.

 

“What do you mean, gone?” Ocato’s face grew worried. “We saw the temple dome explode, the Avatar of Akatosh appear... That was Martin?”

 

“Yes.” Sheora tried to keep her voice calm. She was failing. “He shattered the Amulet…”

 

“The joined blood of kings and gods… The Amulet of Kings. The divine power of Akatosh.”

 

“…And Martin’s blood too…” Sheora glanced back at the center of the temple.

 

“Then Martin is gone,” Ocato concluded, following her line of sight.

 

“But the gates are sealed.” She tried to sound happy about it.

 

“Yes,” Ocato confirmed. “Sealed forever. Mehrunes Dagon and his ilk can never threaten Tamriel again. Martin is dead. But he dies an Emperor, and a hero to rival Tiber Septim. This victory is not without cost. We’ve lost Martin Septim. What an emperor he might have made. His sacrifice was necessary, but it leaves the Empire without an emperor.”

 

“What happens now?” Sheora asked, getting a bit lightheaded.

 

“I don’t know what happens now. There are troubling times ahead for the empire. But now is not the time to be worried about the future. Let’s just be thankful we’re alive!” Ocato beamed at her. “In my capacity as Lord High Chancellor of the Elder Council, I hereby proclaim you Champion of Cyrodiil. And, as a small token of gratitude for your service to the Empire, I will order a suit of Imperial Dragon Armor to be made for you.” She didn’t hear what he said after that as her vision grew black and she passed out.

\---

“Lady Sheora! You’re awake!” A woman’s voice called as she slowly opened her eyes. She glanced around in confusion, her eyes taking in the unfamiliar room, she noticed the sun was nearly down out of her window.

 

“What-” She cut off as her memories flooded back to her.

 

“You’re in the Imperial Palace, Lady Sheora.” She focused her eyes on the woman speaking, it was a tall Dunmer woman, her hair as red as her eyes. “How do you fee, My Lady?” she asked, and Sheora shrugged.

 

“Terrible. How long was I out?” Her voice was scratchy, and the woman smiled as she handed her a mug of water.

 

“It has been three days since the battle, My Lady. A lot has happened, so as soon as you feel up to rising, you must.”

 

“Why do you keep calling me a lady?”

 

“I’m the lady in waiting that the Lord High Chancellor assigned to you.” She smiled.

 

Sheora shook her head.“I’m not a lady. Please, just call me Sheora.”

 

The woman laughed lightly. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, My Lady.” She grinned. “You’ll learn why soon enough.”

 

Sheora sighed and nodded. “What is your name, then.”

 

“I am Farra, My Lady.” The Dunmer woman smiled and gestured for her to get up.

 

Sheora nodded and pushed herself up in the bed and swung her legs over the edge, pushing herself up, Farra grabbing her arms to steady her as she swayed.

 

The next few minutes were a whirlwind. Her Lady in Waiting, and isn’t that a strange thought, shoved her blushing into a bath and scrubbed her until her dark blue-grey skin was clean, and her white hair returned to its original color.

 

“You were wiped clean when the Lord High Chancellor brought you in for healing.” She explained when Sheora asked why she wasn’t covered in blood and grime. “Of course, we didn’t do anything while you were passed out, so now you get to be scrubbed.”

 

Sheora gave her a strained smile and nodded as the woman got back to work.

 

She was slipped into a purple dress with elaborate and elegant golden embroidery. Farra also tied her waist-length hair up into a beautiful up-do, did her makeup, painted her nails, and re-taught her how to walk like she owned the world. Re-learned, because she hadn’t used it since she left Morrowind six years ago. Or was it seven now? She couldn't remember.

 

“There.” Farra grinned at her. “You look like a goddess.”

 

Sheora turned to the full-length mirror in front of her, and couldn’t help but gasp.

 

She was in a dress fit for an empress, her hair and makeup immaculately done, her eyes were ringed with kohl, making the dark red color seem all the more bright.

 

“Thank you, Farra.” Sheora smiled at her, and the woman smiled back.

 

Lastly, Sheora slipped the Moon-and-Star back onto its place on her right ring finger.

 

“Come, My Lady. I’ll lead you to our destination,” Farra walked to the door and held it open for her. Sheora took a deep breath, raised her chin and pushed her shoulders back, walking after her.

 

They walked through the halls, and down the stairs to the Elder Council’s meeting room, from inside, Sheora could hear voices from within, arguing. Farra gestured for her to stop and walked ahead of her. She nodded to the guards as they knocked on the doors thrice, the arguing stopped and opened the doors.

 

 “The Lady Sheora is awake, my Lords and Ladies.” Farra curtsied.

 

“Thank you, Farra. Please send her in.” Sheora heard Ocato order, and Farra nodded, stepping back from the doorway and gesturing her forward. She curtsied as Sheora passed, and the guards gave slight bows.

 

Sheora’s composure faltered as she stepped into the room and caught sight of who was seated on the throne at the far end of the table, she hardly noticed Farra coming to stand behind her.

 

“Lady Sheora, may I present to you His Imperial Majesty, Emperor of Cyrodiil, Lord Martin Septim, Savior of Nirn," the Lord High Chancellor presented.

 

Sheora was rooted to the spot, her eyes wide and her breaths coming in quick gasps. Slightly behind him, Baurus smiled at her and nodded, confirming what she was hearing. On the opposite side of him, Jena gave her an encouraging smile.

 

Martin stood from the throne slowly, seeming to understand her inability to move, and waved the Elder Council out before striding over to her, Baurus and Jena following him dutifully.

 

“Sheora.” Martin’s smile lit up his entire face.

 

“Martin,” Sheora gasped, still trying to regulate her breathing.

 

The Emperor took another step forward and placed a hand on her cheek, and Sheora nuzzled into it.

 

“How…” She trailed off as Martin pulled her over to the table, settling her into one of the chairs before sitting next to her.

 

“I was as shocked as you are, my love.” He smiled gently. “I remember shattering the Amulet, then the next thing I know I’m…” he trailed off.

 

“Martin…” Sheora started, taking a deep breath before launching herself at him, sobbing into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she continued chanting into his shoulder as he rocked her.

 

“Breath, my love.” He whispered, rocking her. “Sheora, it’s okay. You’ve done nothing wrong, my dear.” He continued to hold her as her sobs quieted.

 

“I’ve messed up my makeup.” She laughed slightly. “I’m sorry. Farra.” The Lady in Waiting shook her head.

 

“It is fine, My Lady.” Farra smiled at her, passing a handkerchief. Sheora smiled at her thankfully and wiped her face.

 

“You never finished.” Sheora turned to Martin, who smiled at her.

 

“I ended up in Aetherius, in an empty courtyard. Moments later, I met several Aedra and even some Daedra.”

 

“Which ones?” She asked, lacing their fingers together.

 

“Akatosh, Talos, Mara, and Kynareth were the Aedra, Azura, Nocturnal, Boethiah, and Sheogorath were the Daedra.” Martin gave her a knowing look when he said Azura, and Sheora gave a small grin.

 

“What did they say?” She asked in a rush. “What happened?”

 

Martin laughed. “They decided to send me back.” He grinned at her eye roll. “They know the events to come, an ancient Akavir prophecy apparently, and they want to change the future as much as they can by giving Cyrodiil a strong government. Also, Mara was a huge fan of us.” He laughed.

 

“Was that all?” She asked, and he shook his head.

 

“No, they all had something to say. Azura wanted me to tell you that she was proud of you, and Sheogorath wanted me to tell you that he admires your work. Nocturnal wanted me to tell you that you’re terrible, but she admires your skills and will not hold everything that happened against you.” Sheora smiled again, squeezing his hand.

 

“You look good.” She commented, nodding to his robes.

 

“Yeah, the fur and all didn’t really suit me.” He was dressed in a red mage's robe, with delicate gold embroidery that formed dragons and bursts of flame. Sheora glanced back up to his eyes. He was staring, and by Azura his eyes are gorgeous. Her breath caught in her throat.

 

“Has Lucien been here?” She blurted, then blushed as he laughed lightly.

 

"It was only because of necessity that he returned to Cheydinhal a few days ago.” Martin brushed his thumb over her knuckles once before standing. “Come, you still need rest.”

 

She smiled and followed him out of the room, Farra, Baurus, and Jena following.

 

Sheora was in a daze as Martin led her up to the top of the Imperial Palace, to what she figured was the quarters of the Royal Family.

 

Martin tugged her to a door at the end of a long hallway. "These are our quarters, ours and Lucien's," he explained.

 

The Blades at the door bowed and opened the wide double doors, smiling at Sheora as they did.

 

Martin directed her inside and Baurus and Jena joined the other Blades in guarding the door.

 

Farra, however, followed them inside.

 

The room, Sheora mused, was likely large enough to fit her shack on the Waterfront into it thrice.

 

A very large four poster bed was situated on the wall opposite of the doorway. It was made of a dark red-brown wood and draped in red and gold. On either side, the banner of Cyrodiil was hung, red with a gold border. The black dragon motif seemed to stand out even more in the dim room.

 

There was a desk on the far left of the room, made of the same dark wood as the bed and near it was an elaborately carved table with five chairs, draped in red cloth, with several placemats, plates, and goblets sitting out. The table and chairs were also of the red-brown wood. There was an unopened bottle of Shadowbanish wine sitting there, along with a meal of steaming loaves of bread, meats, and cheese.

 

On the opposite side of the room sat a marble tub with delicate golden designs painted on, it was filled with steaming water and a dark small dark wooden table near it contained all of the soaps, rags, and towels.

 

Behind the tub sat two vanity tables, one for a woman and one for a man, each made out of the same dark wood.

 

There were also several closets, again made of the same wood. The closets had swirls designs carved into them, then painted over in a metallic gold. There were armor stands sitting there, each one with an elaborate set of armor on them.

 

In between the tub and the closets, there was a large fireplace. The mantle had several figurines on it, and a wolfs head hung above it.

 

Directly in front of them, and in front of the bed, was a small sitting area with a couch, two chairs, and a low table. The couches were made of a red fabric with golden embroidery, and the table was the same dark wood as everything else. There were several throw blankets situated over the backs of the couch and chairs, each one red and gold.

 

There were rugs thrown around the room, covering the wooden floors. They were also red and gold.

 

All of the tables had several candles lit, but above the sitting area, a large chandelier hung. It was gold and must have held fifty candles. Hanging from the candleholders there were thin chains, each one strung with pearls and rubies and garnets and diamonds. The entire ensemble threw colored light around the room.

 

Martin led her over to the bath, carefully steering her around the sitting area.

 

Martin turned to her Lady in Waiting. "Farra, could you please help her bath and prepare for a small dinner? I have some things I need to take care of."

 

The servant curtsied. "Of course, Your Imperial Majesty." She quickly set to work, undressing Sheora and helping her into the bath as Martin slipped back out of the room.

 

The Lady in Waiting helped her wipe down her skin and remove the makeup from her face, and the styling oils from her hair before helping her out of the bath.

 

They dried her off before rubbing her down with pleasant smelling oils and dressing her in a simple nightdress.

 

By the time Farra finished brushing hut her long, long hair at the vanity, Martin had returned, and he brought someone with him.

 

"Lucien!" Sheora nearly flew to him.

 

She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her nose in his throat.

 

"It is good to see you awake, my love," Lucien hummed in her ear.

 

He smelled like apples, poison, and blood. A very unique smell, and had Sheora been anyone else she might have thought it disgusting, However, she only found it comforting.

 

Martin's chuckle drew them apart. He was gazing at them with soft eyes. "Let's eat something, shall we? We can catch Sheora up as we dine."

 

Lucien nodded and let Sheora over to the table as Martin dismissed Farra.

 

"A lot has happened, little snake," Martin confessed after the three of them had served themselves some wine and food. "Over the past three days, the Elder Council has been meeting every day to budget repairs, including Kvatch, compensate those who lost family or property and help the other provinces recover. You'll be happy to know that the Daedra stayed out of the Waterfront completely, there was no harm to your people." Martin smiled at Sheora as she breather a sigh of relief.

 

"Thank you," she whispered, and Martin took her hand across the table.

 

"Of course, my love," the Emperor smiled softly at her as he continued. "We have decided that we will not be collecting taxes for the next month, the Imperial Coffers can take it and it's much more important to make sure our people are recovering. The remaining chapels are opening up as hospitals for those wounded in any attacks, and any remaining Daedra are being hunted down. That being said, tensions running high with many of the other provinces," Martin coughed nervously, so Lucien picked up his slack.

 

"Unfortunately, the Empire and Morrowind are not on good terms, as the Elder Council decided to pull troops from the province to better protect Cyrodiil." Sheora looked at him in rage and disbelief, but he plowed on. "Cyrodiil is also not on great terms with Black Marsh, or the Summerset Isles, though we are offering help regardless. The major thing is trying to flush out all of the remaining Mythic Dawn agents. Until that happens, neither you nor Martin is going to be allowed out of this palace."

 

Sheora shook her head. "That's not going to work, I must complete my duties as Guildmaster!" She went to continue but Lucien lifted his hand to stop her.

 

"I have already explained everything to both Armand and Arquen. They both agree that it would be best to keep you here. There isn't going to be many assassinations or jobs that need to be done, the Guild and the Brotherhood will be fone without you for a while."

 

Sheora sighed but nodded. "I guess you're right, but what am I supposed to do while I'm here?" The woman placed her head in her hands and peered at her lovers across the table.

 

"Well," Martin started. "There are going to be several delegates from all of the other provinces. I could use your help with them, especially those from Morrowind."

 

Sheora nodded. "They'll most likely send a delegate from either Redoran or Telvanni. Most likely Redoran, seeing as Telvanni's don't typically like people. As a member of both of those houses, I should be able to smooth some feathers. Don't expect me to be much help with the Argonians, they're going to hate me on the principle that I'm a Dunmer."

 

Martin nodded. "The Altmer are likely to as well. The delegates from High Rock, Hammerfell, Skyrim, and Elsweyr are likely to be the easiest to deal with."

 

The Emperor glanced at the window. "Let's get some sleep, it will likely be a very long day tomorrow." Both Sheora and Lucien nodded.

 

The two males helped Sheora over to the bed and settled her in before preparing themselves for bed and joining her.

 

The three were asleep almost instantaneously. Taking comfort that they had all survived hell together, and they would survive the aftermath as well.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE MUCH AWAITED CHAPTER  
> IS HERE  
> Comment, and give me a Kudos if you like it!

“Martin,” Sheora turned a stern glare on her lover. “If I have to stay cooped up in this palace for any longer, I’m going to murder someone.”

Martin’s shockingly blue eyes rose from the documents he was scanning. “Please don’t,” he asked her dully. “It would throw the palace into a panic, and we’d be locked down even tighter.”

The elf sighed and brushed her long hair out of her eyes. “Okay, but, have you ever thought of how I could just sneak out? I am a master thief,” she tried, but again her lover deflected her.

“You have a guard with you every moment of the day and if they notice you’ve disappeared it would still be the same outcome,” he sent her a stern look but sighed when he noticed her sad face. “I’m sure the Blades will catch the remnants of the Mythic Dawn soon, my moon.”

Sheora’s retort was cut off by Baurus slamming into the room. “Your Majesties!” He panted. “You need to come with us, immediately.”

Sheora didn’t even bother with her typical ‘we’re not married’ retort. She launched herself across the room, thankful that she had chosen to wear leather trousers and corset over a cotton shirt, and that Martin had chosen casual clothes as well.

She grabbed Goldbrand and Umbra and tied the belt with their sheaths to her waist before slipping Woe, Sufferthorn, and the Qahfeynag into their hidden sheaths before tossing Fusrahgot to Martin and pulling him out the door after Baurus, a Blades guard of five circling them.

“What is going on?” Martin demanded as they walked through the palace halls briskly.

Baurus didn’t even look back as he answered, one hand on his Katana. “We received intelligence from one of our operatives. The Mythic Dawn is planning a last-ditch effort to take out the Septim bloodline, we need to get you to safety.”

Sheora cursed in Dunmeri and pulled her swords out of her sheaths, spinning them nervously in her hands.

“What’s the plan?” Martin asked, twirling the dagger.

“We’re getting you two out of here, and to a safe house,” Jenna stated. “We’ll go from there.”

“Baurus, I know a place we can go,” Sheora said, an idea taking form in her mind.

“A place safer than a Blades safe house?” The Redguard asked her, a hint of defensiveness coloring his voice.

“No one can enter it without a password, and Lucian and I are the only ones that know it,” she nodded. “It was a gift from the Night Mother, I’ve been fixing it up.”

 

_“What is the greatest gift?”_ The old door rasped, the worn-down image of a cloaked woman holding a dagger poised to strike one of five children pulsed with a deep red light. The skull of Sithis, with its bloodied handprint, was the only constantly glowing thing.

Sheora placed her hand over the print on the skull. “Family, my brother,” she whispered smoothly, being sure to keep her voice low enough to prevent the others from hearing her, and her head ducked so they couldn’t read her lips.

 _“Welcome home.”_ The Dunmer smiled as she pushed the door open and ushered the others inside, her hand still placed firmly on the print.

Right inside the door, the area opened up to a large room of hewn stone.

Tapestries of red, and banners bearing the Brotherhood’s symbol were hung on the wall, carpets covered the floor, and unlit candles sat on tables around the room.

The main focal point, however, was the sizeable carved shrine in the center that emitted a dull red light.

The shrine, carved in the likeness a skeleton, had four arms. One with a dagger, one with a severed head, and the last two cradled a bowl between them, resting on the crossed legs of the skeleton.

Sheora strode to the shrine and knelt on the pedestal it sat on, directly in front of the bowl.

“We have guests, Father,” she stated as she pulled Woe from its sheath on her left wrist. “Please welcome them into your home as you have I, we are prey and the hunters coy.”

The Dunmer place a single cut across her wrist and let some of the blood drip into the bowl. Immediately, a fire sprung from where the blood dripped, and the candles around the room were lit, including with the ones that were placed in wall sconces carved to be skeletal hands.

“Thank you, Father,” Sheora whispered as she rose.

The room was bathed in light as she walked back over to the group where Martin healed her arm, worry painted over his face. “Do you have to do that every time you enter?” He asked frantically checking her wrists for any other cuts.

“No,” the woman shook her head. “I only did that to ask for greater protection, I asked for the wards around this place to be activated. Any person who has a contract out on their head that approaches will die, but no innocents.”

“How does that offer ‘greater protection’?” One of Sheora’s least favorite blades, an Akaviri descendent by the name of Ewan, asked, anger clouding his voice.

“Did you not hear what I said?” Sheora spat as she rounded on him, ripping her hands out of Martin’s. “’We are prey, and the hunters coy.’ I put a contract out on those that are hunting us, in essence, the Mythic Dawn and any other enemies of the Septim Bloodline that want us dead. If any member of that Cult gets anywhere near this place… Well, let’s just say that there will be no body to bury.”

The Dunmer woman spun around and stalked off down a side passage, the wall sconces lining the hallway lighting up as she strode.

Martin shared a look with Baurus that clearly read ‘get him in line’ before striding after her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hate Arquen, but I love Gogron. Also, the alcohol is from ESO.

Sheora dropped from the ladder into Fort Farragut, anger emitting from her in waves and her eyes a dark purple. 

“I’m three seconds from killing her, I swear,” she hissed as she dropped into a chair next to the fire.

“Who, and why?” Her lover asked, not even looking up from the papers on his desk.

The Dunmer growled. “Arquen and she’s-” the woman gave a frustrated scream and slumped down in her seat.

Lucien put his papers down and knelt in front of the chair. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me, my moon.” His voice was smooth, the same tone he used when convincing someone to pay for someone to die, or convincing someone to join the Brotherhood.

“I just can’t stand her,” she said after a few seconds, her eyes back to their normal deep red color. “She jumps at any chance to criticize me, then a second later she’s trying to protect me, then she’s groveling at my feet, then she’s yelling at me for not doing more to help the Brotherhood, then she’s stoic! I just can’t figure her out!”

She wiped frustrated tears from her eyes.

“My moon,” Lucien brushed her long, white hair from her eyes with gentle fingers. “The best you can do is to just talk to her about it. Trying to figure out how someone like her feels about you isn’t worth it. You only have to see her once a week normally, and all other times you can just dismiss her, and as you are Listener she has to leave you alone. There is no point in getting yourself this upset over her. Arquen, at her core, is the fakest woman I have ever met. Her changing moods around you prove that. They also prove that she feels threatened by you. Just talk to her, ask her what her deal is and if she brushes you off, talk to the Night Mother about it. Especially if it is hindering your ability to lead the Brotherhood.”

The woman nodded slowly and tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you, my light,” she smiled as he chuckled and pulled her into a soft hug.

“Of course, dearest. I am always here when you need to rant about anything.” He pressed his lips to her forehead lightly, humming as Sheora shifted to press her lips to his.

“Could I convince you to leave your work for a while to cuddle with me?” She asked, pressing her forehead to his, staring into his dark eyes as he chuckled.

“I believe you could,” he hummed and picked her up bridal style before carrying her over to the bed draped in red and black.

 

**_A Week Later_ **

 

“You’re late,” Arquen snapped as she dropped through the well entrance to the Cheydinhal Sanctuary.

“Well,” Sheora snapped back. “I apologize for keeping myself inconspicuous so that no one followed me to our sanctuary,” she snarled as the Altmer rolled her eyes.

“Do you at least have the list?” She asked, and Sheora nodded angrily.

“What is your problem with me anyway?” She asked, finally done with the older woman. “You act as if you hate me one moment and the next you’re groveling at my feet! What do you want from me?”

Arquen scowled at her. “I have been an Assassin for longer than you’ve been alive!” She screamed, not noticing as the members of the sanctuary gathered in the shadows. “I have shown nothing but loyalty to this Brotherhood! You, on the other hand, consistently go off gallivanting as some _hero._ A servant of the Septim Bloodline, rather than of Sithis and the Night Mother,” she crossed her arms and glowered at the short Dunmer.

Sheora was speechless. “You hate me… because you think that you should be in my place?” She asked, her breathing fast. “You hate me because you’re _jealous?_ ” She screamed the last word, not noticing as her eyes turned a dark purple.

“You hate me for serving the Empire, when I have done so for _seven_ _years_. You hate me for advancing through the ranks faster than you ever did. You hate me for revealing Bellamont as the traitor and not Lucien, who you hate just as much as you hate me,” Sheora didn’t even realize she was picking the Altmer’s mind apart, using her Daedric powers for the first time.

“You hate me because I am Nerevarine, and thus have duties to Morrowind that I cannot abandon. You hate that I am Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild and that I have connections you could never replicate. You hate that I lead the Mage’s Guild and the Fighter’s Guild, and that I contribute much to them. You hate that the members of this sanctuary, and all those in the Brotherhood that I have met like me _more_ than you. You hate that I am _better_ than you in so many ways and that the Night Mother chose me over you." She gave the Speaker a harsh glare. "Leave, Arquen. _Now_.”

She finished in a whisper, but the words struck home as Arquen gave a wordless scream of rage before sweeping away.

Sheora took a few deep breaths before turning to the crowd behind her, her eyes still glowing purple. “Vicente,” she handed the list of names over to the Vampire. “Make sure these names get to the appropriate sanctuaries. As for the rest of you, this argument is not to be spoken of to anyone other than those here now. Am I clear?”

The assassin’s nodded and dispersed quickly.

 _“I believe the Night Mother and I need to have a chat,”_ Sheora thought as she left the sanctuary.

 

**_Hours Later_ **

****

“Unholy Matron,” Sheora whispered as she neared the statue of the Lucky Old Lady.

 _“You are early, dear child,”_ the voice of the Night Mother echoed through her head. _“Why do you come to me so distressed?”_

“I ask for aid, one of the members of the Black Hand hates both myself and Lucien. I fear I may not be able to work with her much longer, I ask for your advice on what to do.” Sheora sighed as she sat down, cross-legged, in front of the statue and waited for the words of reprimand that were sure to come.

 _“I can see how this troubles you, my daughter,”_ the bride of Sithis comforted her, _“and you do not have to fear my words because they shall be anything but harsh. I have seen how Arquen has been treating you as of late, dear Sheogorath.”_

Sheora’s head shot up, and she stared at the statue in shock. “You- of course, you know.” She sighed and wilted.

_“Indeed, dear daughter, but I will let you in on a secret. The book “Fire and Darkness” is correct, I am Mephala, just as you are now Sheogorath, my daughter. I shall look forward to meeting you in the Shivering Isles.”_

Sheora nodded slowly. “I will look forward to it the next time I am in the Isles, as long as you murder none of my people,” she murmured, keeping an eye on a house, where the light of a candle had just appeared. “Please, though, what should I do about Arquen? I fear the next time she makes me angry I may snap, I think I almost did today.”

Mephala hummed. _“Indeed, child. It would be imperative to remove her from her position as Speaker, for I fear that she is not fit for the role. I would recommend Vicente Valtieri as her replacement. I would also recommend transferring her to a sanctuary far away. Perhaps in Black Marsh? I truly doubt you will be traveling there any time soon.”_

The Dunmer woman nodded. “Thank you, Honored Night Mother, for the advice. Though I doubt she will take it well.”

 _“If she tries to attack you, dear child, you will have aid beyond your Brothers and Sisters in the Brotherhood. She is a Speaker, but the Tenants still apply to her,”_ Mephala reassured her. _“Now, I believe the man in the house you are watching is about to leave. You should disappear before he does.”_

Sheora nodded. “Thank you, mother,” the Dunmer woman smiled as she slipped her cloak ring on and disappeared from sight.

 

**_One Week Later_ **

****

“You’re late once again, Listener,” Arquen snapped as the Dunmer woman strode into the Cheydinhal sanctuary. Both noticed that the Assassins scattered around the main hall had stopped whatever they were doing, though none provided any other signs that they were eavesdropping.

“Indeed, Arquen,” Sheora grinned at her. “However, I believe you are unfit for your role as Speaker, as does the Night Mother, therefore you are hereby demoted to the rank of Murderer and you are being transferred to the Stormhold Sanctuary in Black Mash, you will leave tomorrow.”

The Dunmer relished in the enraged look the Altmer gave her 

“You- I- You’re demoting me?” She asked, her voice dangerously low. 

Sheora smirked. “And transferring you.”

“You can’t do that!” She yelled. “I am a Speaker-“

“And I am Listener,” Sheora cut her off. “I also took the ideas right from the Night Mother’s mouth, I believe her exact words were… Ah yes, ‘It would be imperative to remove her from her position as Speaker, for I fear that she is not fit for the role. I would recommend Vicente Valtieri as her replacement. I would also recommend transferring her to a sanctuary far away. Perhaps in Black Marsh?’” She quoted, and her smirk became a half-genuine smile when she heard Vicente’s shocked sound.

Arquen let out a rage-filled shout and lunged at her, but she was ripped back by a wraith-like creature. 

The shout turned to a terrified and pained scream as the wraith ripped at her flesh.

 _“You have displeased Sithis by breaking the tenants you are sworn to, by attacking the Listener you have committed a grievous crime against your Brothers and Sisters. It is time to pay your due, Murderer Arquen,”_ the Wrath of Sithis hissed as it finally ripped the skin of her throat and allowed her to bleed out, before sinking into the floor.

Sheora let out a sigh of relief as she sunk to the floor, her breathing quick.

“Are you alright, my moon?” Lucien asked her as he knelt next to her on the old stone floor.

She nodded shakily. “Yeah, just a bit unnerved. I guess I don’t have to question if I’d be able to torture someone, the answer is a hard _no_.” She leaned her head against the pillar and took Lucien’s hand in her own.

“I do believe you have some business to take care of, dear,” Lucien’s eyes glinted in the candlelight, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded. “Vicente, I’m promoting you to Speaker. If you accept, you’ll take over all of Arquen’s duties, including overseeing her sanctuary. You will need to be transferred to Skingrad.”

The Vampire nodded. “I accept the position, dear Sister, with honor.  I will look forward to seeing my old friend the Count, and I will try to do better than Arquen.”

“Not that that is hard,” Ocheeva gave a raspy laugh, which was echoed by all other members of the sanctuary.

“Not that I don’t love spending time with you, my dearest siblings,” Lucien smiled at them, “but I do believe that our Listener needs some sleep and a warm drink. 

“Or a stiff one,” Gogron said as he passed a flask down.

She took a swig from it and gave a short laugh. “What did you do?” She asked him with a small grin. “Get some Ancient Dagoth Brandy and water it down with…” she paused. “Is that Lusty Argonian Maid Mazte?”

“I did, and it is!” Gogron boomed, gesturing her to take another drink from the flask. “Drink up, Sister, you look like you could use it.”

The Dunmer woman laughed and did as she was told. “You sure know how to pamper a Dunmer,” she smirked at him. “Dagoth Brandy and Maid Mazte, thank you, Brother.”

“Keep the flask, Sister,” he told her as he walked away. “I have more.”

The Listener laughed as she hugged each of her siblings before leaving once more, to the safety and comfort of Fort Farragut with Lucien.


End file.
